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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29769798">I Heard You Was Freaky From A Friend Of Mine</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMoochy/pseuds/MissMoochy'>MissMoochy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>MissMoochy's Spider-Man Bingo Oneshots [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man/Deadpool - Joe Kelly (Comics)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Drinking &amp; Talking, Drunkenness, M/M, POV Peter Parker, Spider-Man Bingo 2021, Spiderman/Deadpool - Joe Kelly (Comics) Spoilers, Voyeurism</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 00:55:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,591</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29769798</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMoochy/pseuds/MissMoochy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Spider-Man Bingo prompt: [Voyeurism]</p><p>Peter swings by Wade's favourite bar in the hopes of seeing him. But when he meets the snarky bartender, sparks fly. There's something about this guy, Weasel, that seems really familiar...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jack Hammer/Peter Parker, Jack Hammer/Peter Parker/Wade Wilson, Peter Parker/Wade Wilson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>MissMoochy's Spider-Man Bingo Oneshots [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2187987</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>84</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Spider-Man Bingo 2021</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I Heard You Was Freaky From A Friend Of Mine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Title is from Shake That by Eminem. :)</p><p>I was reading the Spider-Man/Deadpool team-up comics and was inspired to write this. In volume 2 of the Spider-Man/Deadpool comic series, Deadpool travels back in time. He finds out Peter Parker and Weasel (called Jack Hammer, back then) were classmates with a rivalry. They were both science nerds, applying for the same job at Oscorp. Long story short, Wade accidentally ruined future!Weasel’s life by lying to Oscorp that young!Weasel was a drug addict (so he wouldn’t get the job) and introducing him to alcohol. The best bit? The whole time, Wade was disguised as Peter Parker. So, after reading that, I thought it would be a good idea to write a fic where Peter and Weasel recognise each other and, um, have sex.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was annoyingly difficult, getting a hold of Wade sometimes. Although their friendship was now at the point that they felt comfortable using each other’s real names and even enjoying post-patrol burritos while unmasked. Peter wasn’t yet at the stage where he felt able to ‘hang out’ with Wade, just chilling without a purpose.</p><p>But he wanted to see him, and maybe he should meet him half-way. So, that’s why Peter found himself visiting Wade’s favourite bar, <em> Sister Margaret’s School For Wayward Girls, </em> on a Saturday night. For the record, Wade didn’t know he was coming. It was a surprise and Peter was already regretting stepping foot in here.</p><p>Oh shit. It was like the old western movies that Peter used to watch with Ben. He walked in and all eyes swivelled around to stare at him. Tough guys, with tattoos, beards and hard stares under bristly brows.</p><p>His sneakers stuck to the sticky floor with every step.<em> Gross, gross, gross. Okay. You’re Spider-Man, you could fight any one of these goons. Just walk right up to the bar and ask for Wade. No biggie. Wade’s not exactly careful with his secret identity.  </em></p><p>A guy built like a linebacker shoulder-checked Peter as he made his way through the maze of tables. He absorbed the blow easily but tried to look a little peeved. The guy didn’t know he had shoulder-checked Spider-Man.</p><p>The bartender was wiping a glass with a rag and didn’t look up as Peter approached the bar.</p><p>“Excuse me, I’m looking for somebody.”</p><p>“Sling your hook, bud. I’ve co-operated with you fuckers enough already. I’m running a clean operation here.” He had a whiny, reedy voice that was oddly familiar.</p><p>“Excuse me?”</p><p>The guy stuffed the rag in the glass and set the whole thing down on the bar. He leant over the bar, squinting up at Peter through a thick pair of glasses. Now that he was closer, Peter could get a good look at him. He was maybe in his mid-thirties, close in age to Peter. Pale with shaggy auburn hair falling in his face. He wore a chequered shirt, open over a tee.</p><p>“You’re a cop, right? You got that look about you.”</p><p>“Um, no, I’m not…anybody. I came in to see if my friend is here. Wade. Wade Wilson?”</p><p>“You don’t look like somebody Wade would know,” he said doubtfully, casting a derisive look over Peter’s hoodie and jeans. “You look like… Have we met before?”</p><p>Now that he mentioned it, the bartender did look awfully familiar. Not the hair or the clothes but something in the shape of his face, the set of his jaw. God, where had Peter met him before? This was going to niggle away in his brain all ni—</p><p><em> “Peter? </em> No fucking way. <em> Peter Parker?” </em></p><p>“Oh my gosh. You… Are you… Jack Hammer?”</p><p>Jack was over the bar in a second, clapping a grubby hand to Peter’s mouth. Peter’s senses hadn’t alerted him to this; apparently, his biology didn’t consider Jack to be a threat.</p><p>“Don’t shout that out, what the hell is wrong with you? You think I want these guys knowing my real name?”</p><p>“Bu’ I thou’ y’were run’in’ a g'lean op’ration,” Peter mumbled, against Jack’s knuckles. Jack scoffed but took his hand back.</p><p>“Whatever. So, what does Mr Perfect Parker want with our good pal Wade?”</p><p>Peter shrugged, but as Jack frowned at him, he figured he wouldn’t be able to get away with a mere shrug. “We’re friends. I wanted to check in with him, see if he’s okay.”</p><p>“What’s a nerd like you want with a scuzzball like him? How did you even hear about this place?”</p><p>“Wade told me about Sister Margaret’s. Look, Jack, I mean...Weasel, can you just tell me where he is?”</p><p>Jack stared at him unblinkingly. “Gimme a message for him. I’ll make sure he gets it.”</p><p>“Forget it, I’m going—”</p><p>“Yo, Weasel,” A man was rising from his seat. He was at a table with a group of men who looked like they pantsed Hell’s Angels members for fun. “Is this guy giving you any trouble?”</p><p>“No, he’s cool, Jimbo, thanks,” Jack (or Weasel) turned back to Peter. “My…patrons are very protective of me. So think about that if you’re planning to do something stupid.”</p><p>“Why would I do something?”</p><p>“I don’t know, the last time I saw you, you—” An ugly look crossed over his face. “—ruined my life.”</p><p>“Oh, not this again. We talked about this when we were teenagers. I didn’t ruin your life, you did that on your own. It’s <em> your </em> fault you messed up that job offer at Oscorp and it’s <em> your </em> fault you started drinking. Look at you now, running a bar for illegal mercenaries. Is this what you wanted out of life? Was <em> this </em>my fault?”</p><p>“Shut up, man, you got no right,” Weasel said and his voice was unsteady. “You have no fucking idea what it’s been like for me. You’ve been doing okay, I’ve been looking like shit, drinking liquor that tastes like shit, hanging around with these fuckheads all day. I don’t deserve it. I was smart. You know I was.”</p><p>“You were brilliant,” Peter said honestly. Weasel scoffed. “No, I mean it. You were. Your brain was incredible. The way you could connect things.”</p><p>“My social skills weren’t up to much.”</p><p>“Yeah, well, neither were mine.”</p><p>“I don’t know about that. You managed to snag the second-hottest chick in school. What was her name again? The redhead?” Weasel had taken two shot glasses and set them down and was pouring something from a bottle in them. He slid one over to Peter and after a second’s hesitation, Peter accepted it.</p><p>“MJ. We still talk sometimes.”</p><p>“I thought you guys would be married by now,” Weasel said and slammed down the shot. His Adam’s apple bobbed and a trickle of moisture dripped down his neck. Peter swallowed, directing his gaze to his own glass. He drained it and felt a rough burn surge down his throat.</p><p>“We broke up.”</p><p>“Good.”</p><p>Peter chuckled. Weasel filled the glasses again. “So… Weasel. Interesting name.”</p><p>“Don’t go there, Parker.”</p><p>“Okay. Do you ever talk to anybody from school?”</p><p>“Fuck no. If I see one of those bastards, I’m crossing the street,” Weasel said. His grin dropped. “I was sorry to hear about Gwen. She was a nice girl when I knew her.”</p><p>“She was. Yeah. A lot of people… died.”</p><p>“Except the ones you want to die, am I right?”</p><p>“What? No! I would never want anybody to die,” Peter said, aghast. Weasel didn’t seem to be listening; He was taking another shot. “Human life is… It’s all the same. It doesn’t matter who the person is or what they’ve done. They’re still a human being.”</p><p>“Huh. You really believe that, don’t you? You’re nothing like Wade.”</p><p>“We’re very different people, Weasel.”</p><p>“Clearly. I wonder what you two talk about. Oh, to be a fly on <em> your </em> wall…”</p><p>Peter had nothing to say to that.</p><p>“So, what happened with you and MJ?”</p><p>“Life just sort of got in the way, you know? I had this…um, habit and it got between us,” Peter said, thinking of webs and a strange, new power thrumming in his veins. At the word habit, Weasel’s eyebrows shot up. It was a slip of the tongue and too late to take it back, but perhaps that was smart. At least if Weasel thought Peter was a former drug addict, he wouldn’t assume the reason for the break-up was spider-shaped.</p><p>“You’re a junkie? Or…ex-junkie? Okay, ex-junkie. Wow. And you lied to Oscorp, saying<em> I </em> was an addict. Fucking hypocrite!”</p><p>“That wasn’t me, I don’t why you kept thinking I was the one who made up that rumour.”</p><p>“Whatever. Too late now. Drink your medicine.”</p><p>Peter rolled his eyes but he drank the shot.</p><hr/><p>He didn’t know what compelled him to keep drinking and trading barbs with Jack, no, <em> Weasel. </em>But he didn’t have anywhere else to be, and as the booze settled in his stomach, it felt nice and warm, and he felt warm too. The whole bar was warm.</p><p>He wasn’t worried about getting drunk and making a fool of himself; It would take a lot of alcohol to overcome his spider DNA, not to mention his healing factor. His healing wasn’t as aggressive as Wade’s. Weasel seemed impressed by Peter’s ability to sink shots like he was drinking water.</p><p>He wouldn’t say he was drunk, but okay, maybe he was approaching tipsy. The lights overhead were blurring into pretty twinkly orbs teetering in the edges of his vision, and he found himself smiling and laughing more as he sunk in deeper into the heat. Weasel wasn’t such a bad guy, he was a little rough around the edges, but then, so was Wade. And he was smart, Peter knew that. They’d been rivals for years, trying out for the same science fairs, the same jobs. If Weasel hadn’t got his life thrown off course, where would he be now? Working in a lab, making a difference in the world? Where would Peter be, if he’d gone down that path, falling into alcoholism, fraternising with known criminals? Although, Peter thought, technically, he <em> did </em> pal around with a criminal. Wade was not a good guy, so why couldn’t Spider-Man stay away from him?</p><p>“Hey,” Weasel said and he poked Peter in the face, right there on the downturned mouth. “No sad faces, tonight is about drinking.”</p><p>“Sorry, I guess I was distracted—”</p><p>“No talky talky. Only drinky drinky.”</p><p>Peter laughed but it was cut off by the bottleneck being shoved in his mouth. He choked but swallowed, feeling something smoothy and fruity (and veeery aloholic) coating the inside of his throat.</p><p>“Whoa,” Weasel said, his eyes flicking up and down the length of Peter’s neck. “You swallow good. I mean, well. Um…”</p><p>“Mr. Weasel! I am here to start my shift!” came a voice from behind them. Peter didn’t recognise it, but Weasel looked up and nodded at the speaker.</p><p>“Oh, yeah, c’mon, Dopinder, I’ll tell you what I need you to do. Keep drinking, Parker,”</p><p>Peter clutched the bottle, drinking more of that fruity stuff. Damn, that tasted <em> gooood. </em></p><hr/><p>Weasel returned a little while later, with the guy (Dopinder?) assuming the position behind the bar.</p><p>“Hey, we should take this party to the back. Dopinder’s filling in for me. Take some booze, Pete, only the cheap stuff, yeah?”</p><p>“Okey-dokey,” Peter said agreeably, accepting several bottles.</p><p>“You are<em> such </em> a dweeb,” Weasel laughed, but he led the way to a backroom, empty and dimmer than the bar. Weasel threw himself on a faded couch and Peter fell down beside him, snuggling into one of the cushions.</p><p>“Crazy question but have you got drunk before?”</p><p>“‘m not much of a drinker,”</p><p>“You’re a lightweight?”</p><p>“Opposite.”</p><p>“Interesting. Won’t bother with beer, let’s get some spirits in you.” Weasel was setting out glasses on the coffee table and pouring a brown liquid. “You want Jack Daniels? Hold out your glass.”</p><p>“Mm, yeah, gimme some Jack. I want some Jack in me.” Peter mumbled, getting comfy on the couch. He spread out, throwing his legs out.</p><p>“W-what did you say?” Weasel asked. He was pouring but Peter was having trouble holding his glass steady. Whiskey kept slopping over the side of it, making his fingers wet. He frowned, set his bleary eyes on the glass and focused. But nope. Then, he realised that maybe Weasel’s hands were shaking.</p><p>“Jack…”</p><p>“That’s not my name, buddy. It’s Weasel, remember?”</p><p>“Nope, you’re not Weasel. You’re Jack. You’re clever Jack Hammer from school… I remember you…”</p><p>“Um. Hey, let’s have a toast. To our dear schoolfriends — may we never see those shitheads again!” Weasel said and they clinked glasses. Peter gulped the whiskey, enjoyed the burn. It was something you appreciated after a while.</p><p>Weasel sat down, after moving Peter’s legs off the couch. “Hey, so, you and MJ… Was the breakup really ‘cause you had a substance problem? I’m not judgin’, you know me, you know I would be the last person to judge about shit like that.”</p><p>“Not exactly.”</p><p>“What’s your weakness? Blow? Heroin? Meth?”</p><p>“What? No.”</p><p>“Maybe I can do some Sherlock Holmes shit. Gimme your arm,”</p><p>Peter obeyed, and a second later, felt rough fingers sliding up his forearm. He’d wriggled out of his chunky hoodie a few hours ago, and it was strange to feel hands on his bare skin. Unfamiliar hands, dry palms and ragged nails. Made the hair on his forearms rise.</p><p>“Hey, do you work out? You look so skinny with your hoodie on. Anyway. I’m not feeling tracks on your arms.” At Peter’s befuddled frown, Weasel explained himself. “Needle marks. So you’re not one of those guys.”</p><p>“Maybe I inject myself somewhere else?”</p><p>“Nah, they always start with the arms. It’s easier. And then they use the feet or whatever when the veins in their arms break. Your nose has been broken before, are you a cokehead? Is Puny Parker a cokehead?”</p><p>“Ugh, haven’t heard that name in a while,” Peter groused. “Stupid Flash used to call me that every day.”</p><p>“Try every period. He used to beat your ass up.” He grabbed at Peter’s face with clumsy, clammy hands and Peter wriggled. Weasel was bringing Peter’s face closer to his and now he could see his face so much better, the gingery stubble that looked almost blond under the light. Was Weasel going to kiss him? Peter’s gaze dropped to that snarky, screwed-up mouth of his. Did he <em> want </em>him to kiss him? This wasn’t a Spider-Man problem, this was all Peter’s. And he didn’t have the faintest clue on what to do.</p><p>But Weasel was tilting Peter’s head up and staring up his…nose.</p><p>“No, I don’t think you do coke. Huh. You really are a puzzle, Peter Parker.”</p><p>“Shaddup. I’m not— I’m just a regular guy.”</p><p>“No, you’re not. You never were.” And then Weasel was kissing him.</p><hr/><p>Peter had a few seconds of hazy confusion before he realised that yes, Jack Hammer from school, the brilliant boffin-turned-schlumpy-drunk, was kissing him. Weasel, with his soft hair, and dry, warm lips and hands cupping Peter’s face. Weasel, leaning over Peter, sliding one leg between Peter’s legs, the rough slide of denim on denim. Weasel, with his whiskey breath, the stink of cigarette smoke clinging to his hair, his clothes smelling of stale beer. Weasel with his patchy stubble grazing Peter’s chin and his glasses cutting into Peter’s nose.</p><p>Jack.</p><p>The bridge of his glasses bumped Peter’s nose. He ripped them off him, threw them somewhere, heard their faint clatter as they hit the floor.</p><p>“You’ve got blue eyes. I forgot that.” Peter said softly. Without the oversized, owlish glasses, the blue was unveiled, those intelligent eyes watching him. X-raying him, right through to the core.</p><p>“If they’re broken, I’m marching your ass to the optometrist to buy me a new pair,” Weasel said and although his tone was harsh, Peter could feel the smile against his lips. “Is this…okay?</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“I’m not gay,” He told him seriously, the dull blue eyes watching for a reaction. “I don’t got a problem with that stuff. But I’m… I like girls.”</p><p>”I like girls too,” Peter pointed out. “I dated MJ.”</p><p>“You got a thing for redheads, Parker?”</p><p>“Only the slutty ones.” Peter whispered, pulling him in for another kiss.</p><hr/><p>“Weasel, can I hide out here for a wh — oh sorry, dude!”</p><p>Peter pushed Weasel away with more force than he meant to. He fell off the couch, landing hard on the floor. <em> Whoops. </em>Peter looked up to see Wade’s shocked face. Wade was out of his Deadpool suit, comfortable in jeans and a t-shirt. But he was staring, bug-eyed, at the two men.</p><p>“Wade…”</p><p><em> “ Peter? </em> You’re…with Weasel. My two friends, making out and…uh…doing stuff. Grown-up stuff. Huh.”</p><p>“It’s not how it looks,” Weasel said quickly.</p><p>Wade pulled a face. “And what does it look like?”</p><p>“I’m sorry, Wade,” Peter added. “We’re still friends, right?”</p><p>Wade considered this. “I don’t know,” he said, folding his arms. “I come here and see my two bros, necking like a couple of high school kids at Makeout Point but what about poor Wade? Doesn’t poor, sweet Wade deserve some attention?”</p><p>“You can watch, but if you touch me, you’re barred for life,” Weasel said.</p><p>Wade plopped into a cross-legged position on the floor, right in front of the couch. He neatly folded his hands in his lap and beamed up at them both. “Good enough for me!”</p><p>Weasel turned back and looked Peter in the eyes. “Is this okay?”</p><p>“It’s just Wade, Jack. It’s fine.”</p><p>“<em> Okay, </em> ” Weasel breathed and then he was pressing scratchy, whiskery kisses on Peter’s neck. Peter squirmed, suppressed a breathless laugh. Between the whiskey breath and scratchy stubble and the illegal mercenary stuff, when did dorky Jack Hammer get so freaking <em> cool? </em></p><p>“Can I…?” Weasel’s fingers were tugging at the hem of Peter’s shirt.</p><p>He nodded.</p><p>He could feel Wade’s gaze burning a hole in him. Could hear the hushed gasp from the side, as Peter had his shirt pulled off him. But Weasel’s hands were grabbing at him, roughly, urgently, and Peter didn’t dare take his eyes off those greedy hands.</p><p>At some point, Weasel pushed him back on the couch and climbed on top of him. Weasel was heavier than he looked but he still felt weightless to Peter.</p><p>He could hear sounds from the side, the snap of Wade’s belt buckle and vague rustling of material. His face was burning with the urge to look, thinking of Wade’s flushed skin and rough hands. But Weasel was here, right on top of him and that was good enough.</p><p>He turned his head to sneak a peek, just a quick glance, but Weasel’s firm hand on his cheekbone stopped the action. “Eyes on me, Parker,” Weasel growled. “Not him.”</p><p>Peter watched as Weasel licked his palm, and shoved it between their bodies.</p><p><em> Oh my God, I’m getting a handjob from Jack Hammer, </em> he thought, feeling hands tug his jeans down.</p><p>Once Weasel got his pants down, he hesitated for a second, staring down at Peter. Peter risked a glance at him, and it was like being back at school. That intent stare, the way Jack would gaze at an equation or a page in his textbook and it was like he was blind to anything else. But this was Weasel and he was tough. He didn’t hesitate, couldn’t afford to. You had to be tough to survive in <em>Sister Margaret’s.</em> So, Weasel bent over him and pressed his lips to Peter’s cock.</p><p>This whole thing was careening along at a breakneck speed but he was into it. He felt on display, his jeans bunched around his ankles, all spread out for Weasel and Wade’s hungry eyes. Wade was groaning, that shivery, whispery sound of his hand on his cock. Touching himself, watching them both. And Weasel <em> licked </em> Peter’s cock, his eyes never leaving it for a second, lapped at it curiously, as if he wondered what would happen. When Peter felt himself getting hard, Weasel took him in his mouth. Just a couple of inches, he tried to take more and he gagged. </p><p>“Yeah, take more of him,” Wade whispered, and Peter turned his head. Wade was sat there, his hand on his cock, his face flushed. Eyes wide, lips parted. He was rough with himself, impatient. </p><p>He turned back to see Weasel’s ginger head bent over his crotch. Peter groaned, feeling Weasel take him in. Hot breath, hot tongue, so good and wet. Stubble prickled his skin but even that felt kind of right, like electric pinpricks bolting through him. Weasel sucked sloppily, loud, wet slurps, drool spilling over. Peter tried not to move too much, his hips resisting the urge to buck up. He bunched his hands in his jeans but his fingers crept up to Weasel’s hair. Rich, auburn hair, thick under his fingers. He tugged on it and Weasel made an encouraging sound. He fucked his mouth, slipping in and out of those thin, cynical lips, smearing his pre-come on Weasel’s chin. </p><p>Finally, he felt it building, that tension between his legs and he grew impatient, pulling on Weasel’s hair. He was selfish in his drunkenness, he wanted to come, he wanted to come right down Jack fucking Hammer’s stupid throat. But Weasel slid off his cock, his lips shiny and wet. And Peter got to come all over his face. He didn’t meant to, but he didn’t stop. He saw his watery white come splatter across the bridge of Weasel’s nose and down his cheek. </p><p>“Bastard,” Weasel croaked. He pinned Peter down, his hands on his wrists and ground his dick against Peter’s legs until his hips gave one final stutter and he came. Peter gazed up at him, that familiar face. The deep-set, tired eyes. That thin, sardonic mouth. He hadn’t thought he’d see this guy ever again. Weasel looked down at him, a little sadly, Peter thought. Planted a kiss on his lips. He still had dried come on his chin. “Fucking Puny Parker. Right before my eyes.”</p><p>“That’s me,” Peter whispered and kissed him back.</p><p>Wade’s voice broke through their moment. “The porno has turned into a romance! How cute!”</p><p>Weasel rolled his eyes and threw a bottle cap at Wade’s head.</p>
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